What is/are your favorite poem(s) by Yeats? What's your

O I Am An Immigrant, A Potato Drank My Brandy

> Behold the mammoth hellwrought Spud
> Who comes to drink up Celtic blood.
> It stretches out from hill to sea
> And dwarfs the old distillery.
> Its purpose foul, its flesh like mud,
> What demon set this killer free?
> O none have known this wretched fear!
> A vegetable who drinketh beer!
> No Englishman has told the tale
> More horrific to the Gael.
> With pockets slack and garments sheer
> I left old Eire and set sail.

Wow Yeats got old in his old age

Easter, 1916.

"Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart"

>>8636913
gorilla balls

>>8636991
google doesn't know the source...

>>8637605
it's obviously a joke

>>8637643
sure but i didn't think it was made on spot because it had quote marks :3

>>8637675
>it had quote marks
excuse me?

>>8637734
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Usenet_quoting
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greater-than_sign#Electronic_mail

"Byzantium" is something from another world (though I suppose that's quite the argument of the poem). But really, Yeats has no one, definitively great poem. "Lapis Lazuli," "In Memory of Major Robert Gregory," "The Second Coming" (of course), "Sailing to Byzantium," "Easter, 1916," "Under Ben Bulben," "Adam's Curse," and other very short poems (most notably, for me, "The Sorrow of Love" and "Cuchulain Comforted") come to mind immediately as well. To me, even at his worst moments and in his earliest poetry, Yeats is so powerful and masterful as to be nearly irresistible, and in this way is so consistent as to make a selection of a favorite poem impossible for me.

Favorite poem, "Vacillation"

excerpt:

Get all the gold and silver that you can,
Satisfy ambition, animate
The trivial days and ram them with the sun,
And yet upon these maxims meditate:
All women dote upon an idle man
Although their children need a rich estate;
No man has ever lived that had enough
Of children's gratitude or woman's love.

No longer in Lethean foliage caught
Begin the preparation for your death
And from the fortieth winter by that thought
Test every work of intellect or faith,
And everything that your own hands have wrought
And call those works extravagance of breath
That are not suited for such men as come
proud, open-eyed and laughing to the tomb.

Favorite collection: "The Winding Stair," I guess.

>>8637777
The Lake Isle of Innisfree was the one we always did at school

>>8637796

Yes, I forgot about "Vacillation." I think it's underappreciated.

>>8637800

And it's not a bad introduction to his (earlier) verse, but it's certainly not one of his great works.

>>8636991
Underrated, desu.